


Sleep Paralysis

by thornedcrown



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Established Relationship, Nightmares, Other, gender neutral reader, sleep paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornedcrown/pseuds/thornedcrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky wakes experiencing sleep paralysis. It’s not like his other nightmares and you find each other struggling to handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep Paralysis

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for sleep paralysis, nightmares, and asphyxiation.  
> More fics at: http://thornwritesmcu.tumblr.com/

7:49 AM. You weren't usually up this early, but you'd been in bed early and it had been a relatively restful sleep so it wasn't as though you could say you were surprised. That wasn't common - Bucky's nightmares were almost nightly, so a full night's rest was rare. You wouldn't complain, though. You liked having him sleep next to you and if losing maybe an hour of sleep was what it took to make sure he knew he was safe and loved and he didn't waste the whole night away sitting up and mulling over his past, then you were okay with that.

 

     Beside you, Bucky still slept peacefully. You'd made it onto your back sometime throughout the course of the night, so with care as to not wake him, you rolled to your side to face him. You were on his right - he wouldn't let you sleep near his metal arm. You didn't like the sentiment behind it; he still very much saw himself as a dangerous weapon and feared for a time when he lost control, and most of the time, he did his best to distance you from the aspects of him that he thought might hurt you. While you'd slowly been able to get him to open up to you more across the course of your relationship, him letting you sleep next to his metal arm was still a no go.

 

     In the soft morning light, you could see his features relatively clearly. Bucky was such a  _pretty_  human being, if you were being honest with yourself. You liked the way his jawline was soft, but defined his face well; you liked the shape of his nose, the way it jutted out straight and the way it made you want to wake him up by kissing it every morning. You liked the sharp shape of his face and his strong brow. You liked the curve of his mouth, the way his lips usually had a subtle pout, and the way you always wanted to have your mouth on his - you liked all of him, really. He usually woke up after you. Sometimes it could be up to an hour later, but that was rare and only if his night had been particularly rough. You expected he'd be up soon. In the mismatched gap between your waking hours and his, you watched him sleep often. When sleep was peaceful for him, you were quite certain you'd never seen someone with a more tranquil look on his face.

 

     8:23 AM. Bucky, finally, began to stir, but it wasn't like the usual, slow flutter of waking hazily from a peaceful slumber. You watched as his brow furrowed, eyes still closed, and began to lift yourself off the bed. Just enough to be prepared if something happened. Nightmares in the morning were uncommon, but not unheard of. His mouth pressed into a tight line and you watched as his eyes snapped open - you'd never seen such a genuinely look of fear on anyone's face before, and your heart dropped to your stomach. His ribcage jerked, like he was trying to suck in air but his lungs wouldn't expand to let him, and you reached out to place a gentle hand across his chest, hoping to shake him from his fright.

 

     "Bucky."

 

     He remained frozen for only a moment, but when he seemed to remember how to move, his reaction was near instantaneous. You hardly had time to react - his flesh and blood hand closed hard around your wrist and in one swift blur, you'd been flipped, laying flat on your back against the mattress with Bucky hovering over you, metal forearm pressed against your throat roughly with his other hand still locked tightly around your wrist, pinning it to the mattress.

 

     You'd taught yourself not to react defensively in these situations - it was horribly rare that he lashed out violently like this but it happened, and you knew you needed to be gentle, to coax him out of his terrorized state. His expression was an amalgam of emotion: anger, terror, confusion. He looked wild, like he had in his Winter Soldier days, and it broke your heart. Gently, your free hand moved to his shoulder, in the space that connected his metal arm with his skin. He flinched visibly.

 

     " _Bucky._  It was a dream. It's okay.  _You're safe._ "

 

     Your words registered visibly with him, his expression faltering severely. You couldn't place the new emotion, something undefinable caught somewhere between appall and nausea, and as tears prickled at the corners of his eyes he jerked his metal arm away, opening your airways at last and allowing you to suck in a staggering breath as he rolled off of you and to the other side of the bed, as far away as he could get.

 

     You rubbed at the skin of your neck, now sore and bruising delicately. On the other end of the bed Bucky just sat, back towards you, but from the way he was hunched over you see his shoulders shake softly as his face rested in his hands. Dragging yourself from where you'd been pinned to the bed, you sat yourself beside him - on his right, away from his metal arm. When you put your hand on his back, he flinched away from your touch. Carefully, you removed it.

 

     "I'm sorry." His voice was barely above a whisper - still hoarse with sleep, he'd hardly even had time to wake up. Dragging his hands down his face, he dropped them, elbows on his knees supporting him and face turning away, pointedly not looking at you. Still, from this angle, you could see his expression, eyes already reddening and lip quivering. Rarely did he cry; he hated being seen with tears in his eyes and avoided crying around others at all costs, but a few rare occasions, he'd made exceptions around you. You moved your hand to his this time, running your fingertips over his skin. This time, he let you stay.

 

     "What happened?" He always told you about his nightmares - some with more reluctance than others, but inevitably he'd explain it all. Not always in great detail - just enough for you to understand. Enough for you to help.

 

     "I couldn't breathe." His voice shook. "I woke up and I couldn't breathe, and  _I swore_  I opened my eyes to you with your hands around my throat. I panicked.  _I'm so sorry._ "

 

     "Sleep paralysis." You'd read about it before - never had you experienced it yourself, but you knew what it was. There would be times when the mind would wake but the body would not - still breathing at a decelerated rate, the body would not move and the brain would often, in its own panic, hallucinate something on your chest, suffocating you. Verily, this was what Bucky had just gone through.

 

     His hand broke away from yours to scrub furiously at his eye. "I'm so sorry."

 

     "You didn't mean to." You hardly blamed him for all this - what his brain put him through was not his fault.

 

     "I could have  _killed you,_  (Y/N)."

 

     "And you didn't."

 

     "But I could next time."

 

     "Listen, if it came to that and I had to fight back, I would."

 

     "But you  _never do,_ " he hissed through gritted teeth.

 

     "I never  _need_  to." You remained gentle with him despite the fact that he began growing angry - more angry with himself than with you, but audibly indignant none the less. "You're less of a threat than you think you are."

 

     He shook his head - he couldn't reply, not without driving this conversation in circles. Slowly, you scooted closer, reclaiming his hand when he dropped it and resting your chin on his shoulder. This time, he wound his fingers inbetween yours and grasped your hand tight.

 

     You were quiet with him for a while; you could feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at last and his breathing slowed significantly, winding down to a far calmer state. When you were certain he would be okay, you pulled away, though your hand remained in his.

 

     "Come on. I'll do breakfast this morning."

 

     "Yeah?"

 

     "Yeah." You stood, gently placing your free hand on the side of his face and ducking down to kiss his eyelid. He could live with himself if you could.


End file.
